The Shadow of Light
by kzff
Summary: Michael Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter is the neglected brother, who ran away years ago. Now, Harry Potter, turned Hadrian Pyrrus, has become much more than anyone could have predicted. Possible slash, no incest.
1. Chapter 1

A teenager, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, sat on the patio of the coffee shop, sipping his drink. That wasn't unusual, as he was an regular, but the troubled expression on his face was. Nodding to herself, Anne decided to take a break and tossed her apron aside.

Pushing open the swinging glass door, she stepped outside and greeted, "Good morning Hadrian, how is everything out here?"

"Fine," Hadrian answered quickly - a little too quickly in her opinion - before motioning at the seat across from him, "Would you like to join me?"

Sliding into the offered chair, Anne waited patiently. If Hadrian wanted to tell her about what was troubling him, he would. If he didn't want to, pushing him wouldn't get her anywhere. That was something she had learned about him in the last few months when he had begun his daily visits to the coffee house.

"I need some advice," Hadrian suddenly said aloud, making Anne's eyes widen in surprise. Now that, was unexpected.

Observing at Anne's reaction, Hadrian rolled his eyes and finished the remainder of his coffee. He straightened uncomfortably in his chair, speaking in a serious tone, "My childhood was...complicated."

Raising an eyebrow, Anne refrained from pointing out that technically, he still was a child. Instead, she nodded, motioning for him to continue. She had suspected something of the sort anyways, having spent a few years as a school counselor specializing in identifying cases of child abuse.

"Long story short, well, let's just say my family considered me a disappointment. I ran away when I was seven and never looked back." Hadrian scoffed, before continuing, "They probably wouldn't have even noticed I was gone if not for my brother..."

"You have a brother?" Anne blurted out, blushing when she realized what she had done. "Never mind, continue."

"Yes, I have a brother," Hadrian acknowledged, "Michael is a year younger than me, and he was always the favorite. He got hundreds of presents every holiday, he celebrated his birthday at a castle every year. Me? They ignored me completely. No presents, no birthday parties, nothing. They even left me alone at home while they went on vacation, and I was only five at the time."

Frowning in disgust at the actions of these so-called parents, Anne hesitantly asked. "Have you talked to any of them since running away?"

"Not until yesterday, when I got a letter from my brother asking for my help." Hadrian answered, shaking his head, "I don't know what to do. Though I want to, and probably should tell them all to go to hell, I still care a bit about my brother. It's not his fault that our sperm and egg donors are such arses."

Suppressing a snicker at his choice of words, Anne smiled reassuringly at him, "You're a good kid Hadrian. No matter how apathetic you may act, I know you will do the right thing."

"I'm only five years younger than you," Hadrian protested, glaring mildly at her for calling him a 'kid'. Nevertheless, he sank back in his seat with a resigned expression, "But I suppose you're right, I'll get a portk...plane to London later."

"London?" Anne echoed, "You're British?"

"You didn't know?" Hadrian asked in an amused tone as he stood to leave, "I thought my accent would have given me away."

"But how…there's no way you could have..."

"Sorry, got to go," Hadrian interrupted with a sly grin, "Thanks for the advice."

* * *

"This is a bad idea, Michael," Hermione urgently whispered, looking around nervously, "we shouldn't be doing this."

Besides the bush-haired witch, Ron nodded vehemently in agreement. "She's right mate. It could be a trap!"

Michael ignored both of them, stepping into the fireplace with a cry of, _"The Leaky Cauldron"_

Exchanging worried glances, Hermione and Ron had a silent battle of wills. Hermione won, and they rushed out of the room to find the adults.

"Ron, this way," Hermione hissed, "the Order is over here!"

* * *

Swearing up a storm, Hadrian scrambled to his feet, glaring at the rubber duck in his hand. He hated portkeys with a passion, but it was the only practical option for international travel. There was no international floo network, and cross-continental apparation was utterly exhausting.

Vanishing the dirt on his jeans with a tap of his wand, Hadrian emerged from the alleyway and stared at the small, dingy, pub across the street. It looked exactly like it had so many years ago, when he had seen it for the first time.

Passing under the faded wooden sign labeled 'The Leaky Cauldron', Hadrian entered the obviously magical pub and nodded politely at the barkeeper, a friendly man named Tom, who grinned back at him with slightly crooked teeth.

Hadrian just had enough time to settle into a semi-private stall before the fireplace lit up with green flames, spitting out a boy who he instantly recognized as his brother: Michael Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Watching Michael approach the table, Hadrian couldn't help but smile slightly as he laid eyes on his brother for the first time in nearly a decade. Sure, he had seen the occasional picture in the international news section of the magical papers, but seeing him in person was something else altogether.

"Harry!" Michael called out excitedly, drawing odd looks from the other customers. "You're alive! I told them you were okay but they said..."

Michael's voice trailed off, and he smiled sheepishly, nervously flattening his hair. "I'm sorry about what our parents did."

"I know," Hadrian reassured him, "I never blamed you, you know. I left because of them, not you."

Michael's relieved expression lit up the corner booth, just as Tom arrived with the bottle of aged scotch that Hadrian had ordered.

"You're drinking now?" Michael asked incredulously, "it's ten in the morning! And your underage, just like me!"

Hadrian smirked, conjuring a tall glass and easily popping the cork off the bottle. "I'm underage for a lot of other things as well, and it's never stopped me before."

Smirking at the puzzled expression on Michael's face, Hadrian waited.

"Oh." Michael gasped, realization and disgust appearing on his face, "Ew! I don't want to know about that!"

Chortling, Hadrian felt the overbearing tension that had been present since the start of their reunion slowly fade away. "So what's going on with you? Your letter said you needed my help with something, but you were incredibly vague about it."

Michael hesitated for a moment, before answering in a hopeful tone, "I need you to teach me magic. Real magic, not the stuff they teach us at Hogwarts. I know you can do it, I looked up your alias, Hadrian Pyrrus."

Hadrian blinked and thought for a moment. "Ok."

"That's it?" Michael asked in surprise, "Ok? You aren't going to give me a speech about how I'm too young, and I shouldn't worry about things like that?"

"Why wait?" Hadrian answered with a lazy shrug, "I may have been out of the country for the last few years, but I still keep up with the latest news. You were in the Triwizard Tournament last year, but something happened at the end of the Third Task. A few days later, rumors of dark activity started to pop up around the country. Coincidence? I doubt it."

Michael nodded solemnly, looking rather downcast. "They kidnapped me at the end of the third task and used my blood to resurrect Voldemort."

Choking on his drink, Hadrian fought through the burning sensation in his throat and gasped out, "Wait, Voldemort? The bastard you killed when you were a baby?"

"He wasn't really dead, but yes, he's back," Michael morosely answered, "Dumbledore is starting up the Order of the Phoenix again. The Minister refuses to believe it though, so..."

Hadrian held up his hand, making Michael fall silent. "Are you expecting any company?"

"Well, I..." Michael began, before an explosion rocked the pub.

* * *

"My lord, one of our men has spotted Michael Potter at the Leaky Cauldron," the masked Death Eater reported, bowing deeply before stepping back in line.

Lord Voldemort lovingly caressed his wand, speaking in a soft hiss, "Very good, Mulciber. Take a few men and capture Potter."

"Yes, my Lord," the Death Eater murmered, bowing deeply as he backed out of the room.

"And Mulciber?" Voldemort said, his eyes glowing bright red as he hissed, "crucio".

A jet of bright red light struck the Death Eater in the chest, and he screamed in agony, falling to his knees and writhing on the floor in agony.

"Don't fail me."

* * *

Pushing one of the masked men into the path of a torture curse that was aimed at Michael, Hadrian couldn't help but smirk vindictively. Nobody tried to kill him and got away with it. Banishing the body at his masked companions, Hadrian followed it up with a half-dozen blasting hexes, blowing all of them through the far wall.

The loud snapping of bones and their pained moans assured Hadrian that they wouldn't be getting back up anytime soon, but he bound and stunned them anyways. Ignoring the panicked customers rushing for the nearest exit, Hadrian knocked a table on its side and couched behind it, pulling Michael in after him.

"You alright?" Hadrian grunted, recieving a shaky nod from Michael. "I don't think we're in the clear yet. Look."

Peeking over the makeshift barricade, Michael gasped as he spotted dozens of Death Eaters flooding into Diagon Alley. Their sudden appearance had taken everyone by surprise and the few Aurors who had been stationed at the entrances were already dead, their red robes stained dark red with blood.

"We have to help them," Michael panted, making to stand.

Hadrian forcefully grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back to the floor in the nick of time, a dark-purple spell missing his head by mere centimeters. "Are you a idiot? They are here for you, and you plan on walking right into their trap? Use your brain!"

Though he was still shaking from the close call, Michael continued to protest, "But what about the people out there? We have to help them!"

"Oh great. My brother has a martyr complex." Hadrian muttered, tracing out a reinforcing rune on the walls behind them. "Give me a few hairs, I have a plan."

Michael hurried to comply, deciding it was probably best to do as Hadrian said. After all, he had taken out three enemies in a matter of seconds without even breaking a sweat.

Summoning one of the unconcious death eaters to his side, Hadrian placed Michael's hair on the man's forehead and chanted a long, strange incantation that rolled off his tongue with a distinctly foreign sound.

In front of their eyes, the Death Eater transformed, his skin bubbling and his bones stretching until he looked exactly like Michael. Vanishing the Death Eater's mask and robes, Hadrian levitated the unconscious body out into the open.

A Death Eater spotted the body moments later, placing a medallion on his chest and tapping it with his wand. The portkey activated, and the body disappeared with a soft pop.

"I got Potter! Let's go!" The man called out, sending a glowing green skull into the sky, hovering ominously over the scene of destruction.

The Death Eaters disappeared simultaneously, apparating away with loud cracks.

"Gullible bastards," Hadrian smugly gloated, repairing the damage to the pub and surrounding buildings with a few swishes of his wand.

Michael watched from beside him, open-mouthed with awe. The Leaky Cauldron looked as good as new, and the counters were actually sparkling clean.

Settling back into his original seat, Hadrian picked up the bottle of expensive scotch which had, amazingly, remained untouched, and poured himself another glass.

"Bet you want a drink now," Hadrian jibed with a smirk, swallowing the amber liquid in one large gulp. "You look like crap."

Looking unsure of what to do, Michael glanced around the abandoned bar. There was no one left in the area, seeing as the others had all fled at first opportunity.

The dull dead eyes of an Auror stared at him, and he shuddered, sliding closer to Hadrian.


	2. Chapter 2

Following Hadrian out of the abandoned pub, Michael averted his eyes from the scene of destruction. Rubble and debris were scattered all over the brick alleyway, and the pained cries of injured victims were audible over the chaos. Aside from the four or five Death Eaters Hadrian had taken down during the fight, there were no other casualties on the attackers' side.

The moment they emerged into Diagon Alley, all eyes snapped to them, or more specifically, Michael Potter, and hushed murmurs of "the Boy-Who-Lived" rippled through the crowd.

Noticing Michael's discomfort at the attention, Hadrian tapped his shoulder, quietly asking, "Are they always like this?"

"Yes," Michael answered with a grimace, "Usually it's a bunch of clingy fans who worship the ground I walk on but whenever something bad happens, it's always my fault."

Shooting a venomous glare at a female reporter who seemed intent on questioning them, Hadrian muttered, "If I were you, I'd just curse them until they stopped bothering me".

Smiling slightly, Michael pretended to be reading a newspaper aloud: "Breaking story! Boy-Who-Lived attacks fans! Dark Lord in-training or hormonal teenager?"

Chuckling at the thought, Hadrian led them to the towering marble building of Gringotts bank. Hadrian bowed slightly towards the goblin guards at the doors, prompting Michael to follow his lead, although with some reluctance.

"Why did you do that?" Michael inquired quietly as they passed through tall arched doorway of the bank.

"It's a sign of respect," Hadrian murmured in a distracted tone, rifling through his pockets in search of something. "The goblins are a formidable race to reckon with."

Michael frowned thoughtfully, recalling the lessons on goblin rebellions in history of magic. If the goblins really were such a formidable enemy, then how had the wizards won the wars anyways? Professor Binns had never quite clarified that point...

"Aha!" Hadrian announced, retrieving a silver key from deep inside his magically enlarged jacket pocket. He glanced at Michael, and then at the row of fireplaces against the marble wall behind him, "Shouldn't you be floo'ing home? Your parents are probably worried sick."

Michael didn't miss the way Hadrian had referred to their parents as "your" parents. He fidgeted slightly, avoiding Hadrian's eyes as he quietly answered, "They...er...they don't know I'm here."

He braced himself, unsure of how Hadrian would react. Hadrian simply looked disappointed, making him feel even worse.

"Michael," Hadrian spoke in a dismayed tone, "You have the most powerful dark lord in recent history after you, and you decide to leave the safety of Potter Manor to meet a stranger, who, for all knew, could have be working for said dark lord?"

"I..." Michael began, before Hadrian cut him off, "If you ever do something so stupid again, I will kill you myself. Understood?"

Michael nodded hastily, relaxing slightly when Hadrian's eyes softened. "Look, I'm not saying you should be under house arrest like a criminal. I'm just saying be smart about it. When the Death Eaters attacked today, you were completely unprepared."

There was a moment of silence as Michael remembered the fight, and how he had been totally outclassed by both the Death Eaters and Hadrian.

"Are you still going to teach me?" Michael asked hesitantly, grinning happily when Hadrian nodded. That grin quickly faded as he suddenly realized something: "Oh bloody hell, mom and dad will be furious when they find out I snuck out. I'll be grounded for weeks and they'll be watching me like a hawk the entire time!"

Hadrian just laughed, making Michael pout. "Get out of here brat; owl me when you sort things out."

* * *

"Michael James Potter!" Lily Potter yelled the moment he stepped through the Floo, "What were you thinking, sneaking off to Diagon Alley?"

Michael quailed under her furious gaze and glanced at Ron and Hermione, who had guilty expressions on their faces, "But I was..."

"Don't talk back to your mother," James interrupted angrily, "We heard about the attack on the radio. Go to your room, now!"

"Fine," Michael acquiesced, storming up to his room. "But for your information, I was meeting with Harry, THE SON YOU ABANDONED!"

Ron and Hermione made to follow him but he slammed the door in their faces, angrily hissing, "traitors".

* * *

Standing on the edge of the property, Hadrian traced out an intricate curse detection rune in midair. According to the goblins, the house had already been rendered safe by a team of curse breakers but he wanted to be sure - even if the house had did belong to him now, it was still a former Black property.

The hovering rune glowed white, returning negative for curses and wards. Nevertheless, Hadrian summoned a full-body shield around himself before cautiously stepping forwards.

"So far so good," Harry muttered under his breath, casting another series of detection spells on the house itself. His fluid spell-casting continued for several minutes as he wove a complex web of magic around the house, scanning for anything that was potentially dangerous.

His efforts paid off as both the door knob and snake-head knocker glowed bright red. Frowning, Hadrian prodded the door knob with his wand, keeping the snake-head knocker within his line of sight.

Nothing happened.

Tapping the door knob again, this time, with his bare hand, Hadrian smiled when it swung open, recognizing him as the owner. The stone snake opened its mouth, revealing its sharp, poison-tipped fangs, ready to strike at any unwelcome guests.

Shutting the door behind him, Hadrian jumped when a loud shriek sounded from the wall beside him.

"THIEVES! A TRESSPASSER, HOW DARE YOU INVADE THE MOST NOBLE AND ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK! KREACHER, TAKE CARE OF HIM!"

A rabid looking house elf appeared with a sharp pop, letting out a loud war cry and charging at Hadrian with a silver dagger in his hand. He collided violently against the golden shield that was still covering Hadrian's body and was thrown backwards into the far wall with a resounding crash.

"Rendered safe my arse," Harry growled, dodging the house elf, which had gotten back to his feet and charged again, wielding the cursed blade in one hand and a sharp piece of glass in the other.

Seizing the house elf around the waist, Harry slammed him face down on the floor and wrenched the dagger out of his hand. The house elf tried to pop away but Harry hit him with an anti-apparation jinx and a stunner in quick succession.

Behind him, what he now recognized as a full-scale painting of Walburga Black continued its caterwauling: "BLOOD-TRAITORS INVADING THE HOUSE OF BLACK, THE DISGRACE! IF POLLUX WERE AROUND TODAY HE'D..."

"SHUT UP!" Hadrian roared, making the painting fall silent for a moment. The silence didn't last as the woman in the painting recovered from her surprise and resumed her shrieking.

"SCUM OF THE EARTH. NOT LIKE IT WAS IN THE DAYS OF MY FATHERS… "

Losing patience with the noisy painting, Hadrian whispered a spell and smiled when a ball of fire appeared at the tip of his wand. The fire seemed to be alive, made up of fiery beasts - miniature chimeras, nundus, and dragons - which fought with each other, sending showers of red and yellow sparks flying into the air.

"Fiendfyre," the painting whispered almost reverently, "the Devil's Fire."

"That's right," Hadrian replied, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face as he concentrated on controlling the fire. "And if you don't want to become fuel for it, I suggest you be quiet."

The painting's attitude changed instantly and she gazed at Hadrian with an expression that could almost be classified as fond. "Of course, young heir."

Extinguishing the fire, Hadrian wiped the sweat off his forehead and glanced at the portrait. "I'm not a thief, by the way. I'm Hadrian Pyrrus, Sirius Black's godson. He left me this house in his will."

"Sirius is dead?" Walburga echoed disbelievingly. "How?"

Hadrian closed his eyes, attempting to stem the flood of bad memories that resurfaced. He answered in a flat, emotionless tone, "Sirius jumped in front of a killing curse to protect me."

"Who cast it?" Walburga asked, turning an ugly shade of red, anger evident in her tone.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Hadrian reported in the same flat tone. He continued to speak, anticipating her next question. "I tracked Lestrange down a few years ago. He died in a tragic splinching accident - I hear he suffered for days before his heart gave out."

"Good." Walburga stated. Even if Sirius had been a blood-traitor in her eyes, he was still a Black and such an attack could not go unpunished. "Rest well, young heir. We shall talk more tomorrow."

* * *

_Six year old Harry bounced up and down in his seat, delighted that his parents had finally brought him along to a Quidditch game. Normally, they only brought Michael but Uncle Sirius had insisted that he tag along._

_Then, the screaming began. It was another group of rogue Death Eaters, the ones who had avoided capture after the Dark Lord's fall. They rampaged through the crowd, heading directly towards the Potters._

_A jet of green light soared towards them, heading straight for Harry. Sirius tackled Harry to the ground, taking the killing curse squarely in the chest._

"_Lily, the portkey!" James desperately called out, fighting to hold off the Death Eaters._

_Grabbing the portkey, Lily held it out to James and Michael. The moment they touched it, James activated it, taking them back to safety, leaving Harry behind._

_Crawling under the stands, Harry clutched his knees to his chest and cried._

* * *

Gasping for breath, Hadrian woke with a start, tumbling off the bed with his sheets wrapped around him like a suffocating cocoon. It had been a long time since he dreamed that particular nightmare.

Loud, insistent knocking on the front door made him sit up in surprise. He pulled on a pair of jeans and hurried downstairs, pausing for only a moment at Lady Black's portrait.

"It is Dumbledore," the portrait supplied, an ugly sneer on her face. "The muggle loving headmaster of Hogwarts."

Hadrian nodded curtly, stepping around the troll leg umbrella stand and opening the door to reveal a white-bearded old man with twinkling blue eyes. The old man beamed at him, smiling brightly as he said, "Good morning, Mr. Potter. May I have a word with you?"

"Mr. Pyrrus," Hadrian corrected automatically, moving aside to let the Headmaster in. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course, my dear boy," Dumbledore answered, stepping into the house and glancing around with a curious gaze. "We always have choices, Mr. Pyrrus. After all, it is our choices who define who we are."

"Uh huh," Hadrian answered skeptically, leading Dumbledore towards the living room. He waved his wand, vanishing the thick layer of dust that had settled and conjuring black veils over some of the more questionable objects left around the house. "I hope you don't mind the mess, I only just arrived yesterday and have not had time to settle in."

Inclining his head, Dumbledore took a seat on the plush armchair, conjuring two steaming cup of tea. He floated one of the cups across the coffee table, stating, "I always find a good cup of tea helps ease the moving process".

Hadrian waved his wand over the tea, disregarding the rudeness of his actions. "No offense, Mr. Dumbledore, but I find myself feeling a bit paranoid after yesterday's attack."

"It is quite understandable," Dumbledore assured him, "in fact, that is what I wished to discuss today. What do you know about the attack yesterday?"

"I know enough," Hadrian answered in a guarded tone, "Why are you, the Headmaster of a school, asking me this rather than the Aurors? And for that matter, where were they yesterday?"

"As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, it is my duty to protect my students, including Michael Potter, the target of yesterday's attack on Diagon Alley. There were multiple attacks yesterday, all across Britain, drawing the aurors out from their posts." Dumbledore replied before asking again, "Mr. Pyrrus, what was your involvement in yesterday's attacks?"

"I protected my brother," Hadrian answered, "nothing more, nothing less. That is what I will continue to do until Michael is safe from anyone who wants harm him."

"That is very noble of you," Dumbledore intoned, making Hadrian snort.

"Let's get one thing clear right now. I am not here on some noble mission. I am here because Michael is the only person alive that I consider family, and I will do whatever is necessary to ensure his safety." Hadrian paused. "I know at least one of the Death Eaters who attacked us yesterday is dead. I feel no regret for taking his life, only remorse that I was forced to take such measures."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed slightly, "Surely you do not mean that, Mr. Pyrrus. Every human life is sacred and murder is a step on the path to darkness."

"It is not murder when it is in self-defense," Hadrian countered, "But then again, who am I to argue with you regarding the path to darkness. Not everyone has forgotten your special relationship with Dark Lord Grindelwald."

"The mistakes of a tumultuous youth," Dumbledore answered, sounding defensive and looking a bit pale. "I believe we are done here."

Hadrian smiled, holding open the door. "Do you ever wonder, Mr. Dumbledore, what would have happened if you had stopped Gellert Grindelwald before he rose to power? Do you ever wonder whether World War II, the deaths of millions, muggle and magical alike, would have occurred if you had simply confessed? If you are looking for a murderer, I suggest you take a good look in the mirror before accusing me."


End file.
